


Testimony

by snarechan



Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-14
Updated: 2008-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-22 13:16:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarechan/pseuds/snarechan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wouldn't let it happen again, not this time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Testimony

**Author's Note:**

  * For [apocalyptic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=apocalyptic).



> Done for Anx, who wanted some Final Fantasy X lovin' (specifically Tidus/Yuna, with the prompt "Wishing only wounds the heart"), and I'm always happy to oblige. Edited by Cassandra Cassidy!

Tidus hated what Zanarkand had been reduced to almost as much as he did his old man. Like him, it reminded the blond of terrible things and brought back unhappy memories. All he could think of or feel when he walked in that place were things he couldn’t have.

It was almost enough to bring him to tears.

This _used_ to be his home – he could still envision where everything was placed. The school, the docks, every part of the dome… Bridges linked the city together, and people were capable of walking anywhere they wanted. Life was so much simpler back then.

Not happier, as he recalled recently. When he didn’t know better, the millions of adoring fans, the Blitzball trophies, and the boathouse he resided in seemed ideal, but that was because he had nothing to compare them to. Tidus had friends now, had learned camaraderie and knew what a _real_ home looked like, before it burned to the ground. Here, at these crumbling remains, he saw only the tattered shadows of a life that hadn’t been worth going through the motions of. It was sort of hazy to recall, like it hadn’t been real. That was how fake it’d been.

Warmth brushed his palm, and he looked down to see what it was. Yuna’s hand was nestled in his glove, fingers lightly tucked under his own. He glanced up at her face, then to the sun setting over broken pillars, and then lastly, his eyes rested on her face again.

A tiny, inquisitive quirk to her lips appeared – he’d call it a smile, except that it was too sad to be one. It was difficult for her to do that lately, because when there was nothing to smile about, doing so just looked painful. Still, the Summoner thought about them first and tried not to make them worry, choosing her reactions five steps ahead and to the tiniest detail.

Tightly, he gripped her hand in his and let his eyes trail back over the demolished, one thousand-year-old city. He didn’t hope for a miracle, then, nor ask for any favors that couldn’t be carried out, or make some kind of everlasting vow; that wasn’t his style.

Tomorrow, though, he’d personally do his best to ensure that nothing bad happened. This – right here, right now, with her, with _them_ – was his world now, and instead of whining about it like he really wanted to or begging for help, he was going to do what he did best: act, and compulsively at that. Nothing was going to turn Spira into another example of decay.

-Fin-


End file.
